


You Don't Need Me (But I Wish You Did)

by deliciously_devient



Series: The Cold Is Familiar (But Your Warmth is what I Crave) [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers
Genre: Angst, I promise, M/M, Multi, Torture, but there's a happy ending, like sort of graphic, trigger warning for torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciously_devient/pseuds/deliciously_devient
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first video came two days after Tony was shot down. It was two hours long, and none of the Avengers could stomach the first five minutes. Steve made himself watch every minute, with the certainty that he was responsible for this settled heavy in his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one's a little darker, but I promise there's a happy ending. Comments and feedback are welcome, and wow, I was really blown away by the response to the first part. I hope you guys like this one just as much.

Clint thought he found home when he found Phil and Natasha. The small glock on his left hip had two partners, and the hourglass on Natasha's stomach held the promise of another person who might understand him. They looked for a match, of course, but either whoever held their hourglass was unregistered (likely) or kept it under wraps.

If their missing soulmate also held Clint's arrows or Phil's glock, it was likely that they hid one or both of them; even though triads were common, some traditionalists looked down on them, were even violent sometimes. Some nights, he dwelled on their missing piece, his mind firmly closed against his other two mates, and hoped that they were okay, that they weren't afraid or scared or alone.

On these nights, he would remember the circus, remember cold nights and empty bellies, and hope that their missing mate didn't have to go through anything remotely like what he and Natasha and Phil had gone through. On these nights, he felt the sense of something more acutely than other days. He was searching, he knew, every time he went out, hoping their missing piece would come to them like Natasha had come to him and Phil.

When they all moved into the Tower, when Phil came back from the dead, and they began to sprout each other's marks like flowers, he finally felt like he was where was meant to be. Thor was big and powerful and booming, and when he felt trapped in his own skin, he would go to Thor. The god would smile at him gently, and take him into his arms, making Clint feel small and weak and secure in a way no one else could really make him feel. When he had too much energy and anger, he went to Steve and they would spar, Steve barely holding back his impressive strength as they snarled at one another, and usually ended up fucking on the gym floor.

After those trysts, Steve was always incredibly gentle with him, and insisted on washing Clint down, fingers massaging sore muscles, until Clint was a shivering, limp mass. Steve would take him back to his room on those nights, and turn his back to Clint's front, sighing softly as he settled into the position of little smooth. It made Clint feel powerful, and possessive in a sharp, tense way he couldn't quite manage to have with any of his other mates.

When he felt quiet and contemplative, he went to Bruce. He would sit quietly wherever Bruce was working, or watch over him sleep if it was an odd hour of night. Bruce always had a soft smile and a kiss on his forehead for him, and often shoved food down his throat in such a passive way that Clint didn't realize he was being coerced until he was already bloated.

And of course, most nights he curled up between Natasha and Phil, both little and big spoon, content in his skin while he was between him.

Still, some nights he felt it even more acutely than before; _something was missing._ Someone, he should say. He'd never been happier, but he'd also never been more frustrated. When Bucky appeared, wild eyed and wild haired, Steve's wings scared over and Natasha's hourglass almost scratched off completely and bleeding sluggishly, he thought they had finally found the missing piece.

But after Bucky had settled into their group, everyone else's marks quickly filling up his skin, Clint still felt that terrible, horrible feeling that there was something  _missing._ It grew in the back of his mind as one year turned into two, turned into three. It was always in the back of his mind, growing more and more insistent as the days went by. It became even more insistent when one morning, on his right ankle bone, he found a faint blue circle that hadn't previously been there.

It was his missing mate's mark, he knew, with a blinding certainty. He immediately put the mark into the database, but no matches came back, and he felt an increasing sense of despair. He grew surer and surer that he was simply never going to find the missing piece. 

He was on the range that Tony had recently updated -there were now flying targets that tried to hit you- when the klaxon sounded. He was already geared up, so he just flounced into the debrief room, looking around curiously as everyone else showed up. Everyone seemed equally confused as he was as to who had sounded the alarm. When Phil showed up, no reports of Doombots or alien invasions, and they became even more confused.

“Who sounded the alarm?” Thor asked, Mjolnir clutched in his hand with white knuckles.

“I apologize for the confusion,” Jarvis chimed in, and Clint looked toward the ceiling in confusion. “However, I thought that this was the best course of action to get all of you to take this matter seriously.”

“What's going on, Jarvis?” Steve said, hand tightening on his shield as if he expected Jarvis to go Skynet. “Where's Tony?”

“That is precisely the matter that I wished to discuss,” Jarvis said, and there was a note of exasperation to his voice that Clint marveled at. “Approximately thirty minutes ago, Sir was shot out of the air by an unidentified jet, which was stealthed until it fired. He was over the Rocky Mountains, and while I am confident that he could have survived the fall in the suit, the suit itself was damaged beyond my capabilities to repair communications.”

There was a sharp moment of silence before they were moving, Phil securing a Quinjet for their use, Steve demanding to know everything Jarvis knew, and Clint felt his chest tighten in a hard coil of worry. Sure, Tony didn't make much effort to bond with any of them, even though he clearly wanted to, but losing him...was unthinkable.

**

This was his fault.

That's all Steve could think as he loaded the team onto the jet, Clint pushing the limits of their speed in an effort to get to the location Jarvis last had contact with Tony. He knew the reason Tony had been shot down was because he had pushed him too far, made him run. It was Steve's fault that he was injured, maybe even dead, all because he had to push him to accept him when he obviously didn't want to. 

They found the remnants of the suit about a mile away from Tony's last location; it was beyond repair, looking as though someone had used the jaws of life to pry Tony out of it. There was blood, but not much, and there was no trace of a vehicle in the remote area.

“They must have air lifted him out after they shot him down,” Clint said, and his voice was devoid of emotion, his clear brown eyes dark and emotionless. He would need to spar tonight, Steve knew, and he threw open his mind, taking comfort from the emotions of his mates. The only one he'd ever been able to speak to, mind to mind, was Tony, and he was gone, gone because of Steve's selfishness.

**

The first video arrived in the lobby of Stark Tower two days after Tony was shot down. None of them had slept, looking desperately for clues as to where Tony was that just didn't seem to be there. Steve had closed himself off from the rest of the team, drowning in his own guilt and running himself ragged. He needed to find Tony, needed to bring him home.

The DVD was scanned thoroughly before it was allowed into a player disconnected from the mainframe of Stark Tower. It showed Tony, stripped bare, hanging from his wrists in a dark concrete room. His head hung down, unconscious, and he seemed completely uninjured.

“Is that...?” Thor murmured, reaching out toward the image, his eyes fixed on what they could all see plainly now. It was Thor's lightening, striking out across Tony's skin and glowing faintly in the dim light of the cell.

“Yeah,” Clint said hoarsely, his own eyes fixed on the crossed arrows on Tony's thigh. Each of them were staring at their own marks, Natasha's hourglass, Bucky's red star, Phil's glock, Steve's wings and Bruce's feathers, all so familiar and yet foreign on Tony's body.

“It wasn't just mine,” Steve said, his stomach sinking farther into his body. “I knew he hid mine, since just after I woke up, but I never knew he had all of ours.”

“You knew?” and that was Clint, sharp and angry, his brown eyes glaring daggers into Steve, and he winced, knowing he deserved this. “You knew he was your soulmate and you didn't tell any of us? You didn't tell him?”

All their eyes were on him, and he felt his heart being crushed by their disappointment, their betrayal. “He knew!” Steve burst, fists clenched. “He knew and he didn't want me and he  _told me that,_ and I pushed him two days ago, and he ran and now he's gone and it's  _my fault!_ ”

Clint's eyes softened and he opened his mouth to say something, but everyone's eyes snapped to the screen when they heard a sharp, burning scream. Steve's heart dropped to his toes when he saw what was happening on the screen.

They were pouring some kind of acid over Tony, and it was burning him, melting the skin from his muscle, disfiguring him horribly. Steve felt sick, and he vaguely noticed someone leaving, presumably to vomit.

“ _First test of SCP-493-77. Administering SCP-493-77 now.”_

A masked nurse came on screen after the acid stopped flowing, and injected a blue liquid into Tony's arm, before quickly retreating from the view. Tony, who had stopped screaming a moment ago and was hanging limply from his bonds, made a feeble noise, before he started thrashing. The screaming started up again, and bits of flesh fell off where they had been hanging by threads after the acid had melted it, the thrashing making his injuries worse.

There was the sound of retching beside him, but he paid it no mind, eyes glued to the screen. He watched, horror curling in his gut as Tony's melted flesh began to flow, reforming and becoming smooth again, flawless. In moments, he was exactly as he had been before the acid, hanging his head, panting harshly as he hung from his chains.

Mjolnir went through the screen of the television, and Thor stood there, eyes burning as the hammer returned to his hand. Bruce was gone, and Steve realized he must have retreated to the nearest Hulk room. 

“This will end now,” Thor said frostily, and he was gone in a flash, and there was the crackle of the Bifrost, and Steve sat down heavily, his eyes closing as a sense of relief filled him. Originally, Thor had said that Heimdall would not look for one mortal, even for one of the Avengers, saying that he could not dally in the fairs of mortals as it was not his place.

But a year ago, when Clint had gone MIA, Thor had demanded Heimdall locate him because he shared Thor's soulmark. And now that they knew Tony had Thor's mark, they would be able to find him, and bring him home, where he belonged.

Steve felt the couch dip beside him, and he felt the breath catch in his throat, the familiar weight of Natasha's arms wrapping around his shoulders. He let himself be drawn into her chest, drawing comfort from her, opening his mind and letting her calming presence wash over him.

“It wasn't your fault,” she murmured softly, and Steve choked on a sob. “It's theirs. And they will know our wrath when we find them.”

**

Bruce had managed to keep the Hulk under wraps when he'd rushed to his panic room, but only by promising him that he could smash everyone who was hurting Tony. He was a bit blown away by the incredible emotion he felt from the Hulk; he'd never known that his other side could feel so deeply and so acutely, and he received an irritated huff from his other side at that. 

When he emerged from the Hulk room, he they were all waiting for him, fire in their eyes, Thor looking triumphant.

“Why are we still standing around?” Bruce demanded, the growl of the Hulk filtering through his voice. “Let's go get our mate.”

They jumped into action, and Bruce's eyes were a brilliant green the entire ride to the compound they were keeping Tony. It was an organization they had never heard of before, and it would be sorry it ever showed it's face, Bruce thought darkly.

_Hulk smash,_ the Hulk agreed in the back of his mind, and Bruce knew that for once they were in complete accord. 

He jumped out of the plane with Steve, changing in midair, smashing through the roof of the compound with an incredible roar. 

“HULK  _SMASH,_ ” Hulk roared, and Bruce was just on the other side of his mind, guiding him through the compound to where Tony was being held. He sped past countless cages filled with countless odd creatures and items, bowling over guards with impunity until he reached his destination. He could  _feel_ him, now that he knew what to look for, and he smashed in the door with a snarl. Tony was still chained to the wall, and Hulk gently broke the chains, being so, so careful with his fragile body.

Tony didn't open his eyes, but he groaned when Hulk picked him up, a promising sign. Hulk cradled him against his chest, covering him completely with with his bulk and then making his way out of the room. The team were making a right mess of the compound, releasing creatures from cages and watching them attack the guards, all of which were masked.

“HULK HAVE TIN MAN,” he roared, and he watched his team zero in on him, and they fought their way out the way they came. Which wasn't that hard, considering half the captured creatures had been released and were brutally attack the guards who had held them captive.

As they approached the hole in the ceiling Hulk had made, a tall, thin creature stepped into their path. It was covered in blood, skin a deep, glimmering purple, jaw hanging down to it's navel before it snapped shut, staring at them with large, completely electric blue eyes. Steve tensed, taking point and putting himself in front of his team, face tightening into a snarl. 

The creature blinked at Steve, and it's gaze focused over his head, to where a tuft of Tony's hair was visible from where he was ensconced in Hulk's arms. It slowly held up it's hands, fingers spread.

“This one goes with that one,” it said, it's voice a deep, rasping monotone.

Steve looked as though he would protest, but Clint touched his arm, shaking his head. There wasn't time; even now, they could hear a countdown, which could only mean one thing. Steve nodded sharply, and ordered Hulk up through the hole first, and they followed, the strange, purple creature hot on their heels. They made it into the Quinjet and to altitude before an enormous boom sounded, the jet wobbling from the force of the explosion. The purple creature was staring back down at the spot where the compound was, as if it could see through the metal, and hell, maybe it could. Hulk didn't sense any kind of hostility from it, and was thus disinterested. They had Tin Man back, and the green monster set him down gently, before allowing Bruce to come back.

**

“Who are you?” Steve demanded the moment they had returned to the Tower. They had all agreed that if the creature was dangerous, there was no place more secure to keep it than Stark Tower. Tony was still slumbering on the couch, dressed now and covered in a soft fleece blanket, Phil, Natasha and Thor standing over him protectively.

The purple creature, which had been silent since the compound, was crouched in the corner on an end table, it's long knees sticking up past it's ears. It turned it's eerie gaze to Steve now, and there was a faint smile on it's lips.

“This one has seen so many cages that he forgets the name his mother first spoke to him,” he said, and there was sadness coloring his tone. “This one had been called SCP-096 by those ones that these ones have take this one from.”

“Well, we can't call you that,” Clint said from where he was perched on the mantle, bow in hand, arrow knocked loosely on the string. “What do you want to be called?”

The creature seemed to consider this for a moment, tilting it's head to the side. “This one has always been fond of Tom,” it said after a moment.

“Then we shall call you such, Tom,” Thor said agreeably, and this drew a real smile from the creature.

“This one is pleased,” Tom said, and he pushed his legs down, resting them on the carpet and wrapping his toes in the carpet.

“What are you?” Natasha asked, only frank curiosity coloring his voice. This seemed to make the creature sadden, and he looked down.

“This one is lost. This one came from this one's planet long ago, and cannot remember where it is,” he said, and there was such a deep, visceral pain in his voice that all of them winced. “This one has been kept for many years by many different ones of those kind. This one is resilient to many pains of those kind, and this one's blood was used with that one” here Tom gestured to Tony “and this one does not know how those ones refined this one's blood, as this one's blood has always been toxic to those kind until now. So this one stays with that one.”

There was tension in the room, tight and palpable, and everyone jumped when Tony groaned softly. He moved his head slightly, and they all moved quickly around him, Tom perching on the arm of the couch; no one had even seen him move. They all watched with bated breath as Tony's eyes flickered open.

His bright, brilliant blue eyes.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those asking, I only based Tom lightly off of SCP-096. I might have more SCP things, but might not. I'm gonna go chapter by chapter, with Tony encounters with each of the Avengers individually, and then as a group.

Everything was _beautiful._

That was the first thing Tony thought when he opened his eyes, gaze falling on the faces of the people he held most dear. Each of them seemed to glow faintly, aura's swirling around their skin, darkest near their heads. Tom was there also, closest to him, and Tony reached out a hand to him, touching his smooth, flawless skin.

“You are unhappy?” he asked, noting distantly the odd expressions that passed overhead, Steve and Natasha looking particularly worried.

Tom looked slightly surprised, but smiled and touched his shoulder in return, his fingers warm and soft against his skin. “I am worried for your health. But no, I am not unhappy.”

Tony turned his attention away from Tom - _how does he know who Tom is?-_ and to the other Avengers. He sat up, and grinned at them.

“Thanks for saving my ass back there, guys,” he said, rolling his shoulders, getting some of the stiffness in his muscles to abate. Being chained up hadn't taken as bad a toll as he thought it would, though he could admit he didn't have much experience to go by. “Did you get any clue as to who those yahoos were?”

“Tony,” Thor said, and his voice was soft, serious, and Tony looked at him, frowning slightly. Something must be wrong, he thought; Thor was never anything but boisterous unless something was wrong. “Why did you hide our marks from us?”

Tony didn't process what Thor had said at first, not understanding what he meant, but then he glanced down at his arm, and realized that Thor's mark was bright and visible along his entire arm. Panic bloomed, quick and fierce, making him gasp, and with a speed that rivaled Steve's, he vaulted himself over the back of the couch, throwing himself toward the elevator door.

“Jarvis, open the fucking door!” he snarled, punching the metal with enough force to dent it slightly. His knuckles cracked and there was a flare of pain that was gone in moments, as he tried to forced the door open.

“Sir, I believe this is the best course of action for your mental and emotional health,” Jarvis said, and then Steve and Clint were there, closing in on him, and panic was tight in his chest. They looked so concerned, and fuck, he was already  _fucking this up,_ this is why he'd never told them, never shown them, he didn't  _deserve_ this level of concern. It was bad enough they had to put up with him as a friend, but as a lover? He would ruin everything, he always ruined everything, no one had fucked up enough to warrant getting him as a soulmate,  _none of them deserved getting stuck with him._

“ _Tony,_ ” Clint whispered, and he was being pulled into strong arms, his face folded into the crook of Clint's throat. He'd seen Bruce take this same positions countless times before, after particularly rough battles, and he knew why he did this now. It calmed him immensely, made him feel safe and protected, and  _fuck,_ he couldn't make himself pull away.

Steve came up behind them, covering Tony's back with his front, and the billionaire felt enveloped, protected. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt tears stinging his eyes.

“Tony, of course you deserve this,” Clint murmured in his hair. “I've never met someone more generous or caring. You do so much for all of us; let us take care of you.”

A choked sob forced its way out of Tony's throat, and Steve made a soft noise of comfort, petting Tony's hair gently, and it only made the brunette cry harder.

“I'm sorry, I'm so-sorry,” he choked out, tears staining Clint's shirt. “I didn't mean, I didn't want you to find out, I'm sorry,” he said softly.

There was a hand on his arm, big and strong and calloused; Thor's. “Anthony, you among us as you were meant to be could never be anything but a joy,” the god murmured, and Tony cried harder, his body shuddering as emotion he'd suppressed for so long burst forth. The sounds that came from his mouth were harsh, scraping and made him feel like a knife was being shoved into his throat on each inhale.

He let himself be led back to the expansive couch, and he was placed in the middle, Steve's legs bracketing his, his back pressed up against the super soldier's chest, Thor on one side, Clint on his other. Bruce crowded the space by his feet, head laying against his thigh, Natasha on the other side, touching his calf and knee gently. Bucky and Phil had taken up defensive positions near the door, and Tom was perched on the back of the couch by Steve, looking down with concern, his bright, brilliant blue eyes filled with empathy.

It took a long time before Tony cried himself out, his cries going silent, staring down at his hands, a look of utter defeat on his face. He'd managed for so long to keep this from them, had tried so hard to save everyone from him, but he hadn't been able to do it. He should have killed himself when he had the chance, just after they'd found Bucky; no one would have missed him and they wouldn't be in this position now.

There was a harsh gasp to his left, and he looked up, cheeks tearstained, to see a pained, almost constipated look on Bucky's face. He blinked in confusion, flinching slightly when Bucky stormed over to stand in front of him, grabbing his cheeks with his metal hand. Tony didn't flinch - _I deserve this-_ but the others tensed.

“Buck,” Steve said, warning in his voice, but Bucky didn't look away from him.

“No,” the assassin growled, and there was something raw and painful in his voice. “ _No._ Do you hear me, Stark? You don't get to take the easy way out, you understand? You _belong_ with us, your body is painted with our marks and you don't get to make that decision. You don't get to say whether or not we want you around; _we_ do, and you're gonna stay with us, be with us, because we _want_ you, understand?”

Tony made a soft, broken sound and he clutched at Bucky's metal hand, his eyes desperate. Then, like a dam breaking, they could all _feel_ each other, _hear_ each other, in a way they had never been able to before, and Tony blinked as each of his marks glimmered faintly, lighting up his body through his clothing, the thoughts and feelings of each of his mates swirling through him. He felt their affection, their pain, their want, and he choked on dry tears, unable to cry anymore.

“Shh, it's alright,” Steve murmured softly, kissing Tony's temple.

“These ones will need sleep,” Tom chimed in, and all eyes turned to him. “It is Tom's blood that has caused this; telepathy is how this one's people talk naturally. These ones will all need sleep, and sleep close.”

Natasha blinked at him, and she felt exhaustion pulling at her mind, and knew that Tom was right. “To the rumpus room then,” she said decisively, and was pleased when everyone agreed with her, even Tony, who let himself be led to the room just off to the side of the communal living room, the one that was mostly bed and designed for them to all cuddle comfortably, a tv on one wall and a small fridge stocked with light snacks like water and fruit. Tony had designed it just for them, now that she thought about it; he had given them this comfortable, warm nest they all retired to after long battles without ever intending on joining them to take the comfort they took from each other. That, more than anything else, made her heart ache sharply.

Tom followed them, and laid his long limbs out on the couch on the far wall, observing them all with lazy eyes, looking as though he was going to join them in slumber. Limbs were arranged, Tony taking the coveted middle spot, sandwiched between Natasha and Bruce, Thor lying lazily at everyone's feet. It was a position he took often, saying he liked being able to feel each of his mates at any time he awoke.

Clint felt, as they all settled down and Jarvis lowered the lights, nuzzling into Bucky's side, complete and whole for the first time in his life. It was a feeling he was never going to give up again.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been forever and I am so, so sorry for all the people who have been waiting so long. I'm also sorry for everyone who has been waiting on other updates for other stories. It'll happen eventually? Probably.

Tony thought it would take him ages to fall asleep, anxiety tight in his chest as he slowly realized that there was no more hiding after this; they all knew, and no matter how bad he was for them, they wouldn't give him up.  
But despite his misgivings, he fell into slumber easily, surrounded by warmth on all sides, the thought that his mates were, at least for now, safe and together easing his mind.  
When he woke, it was to the sound of gentle snoring; he couldn't tell where it was coming from with how he was basically wedged under Bruce, legs tangled up in Natasha's and his face buried in the small of Bruce's back. He lay still as he listened to the breathing of his team, his soulmates, and considered the risks of trying to extricate himself from the middle of the pile. If he was quiet enough, he could slip away to the lab, lock it down before anyone else woke up enough to realize where he'd gone. Surely by the time he came out, they'd realized what a terrible mistake inviting him in was, and things would go back to normal.  
The thought of that, though, of things returning to the way they were before, when he was treated as a friend and nothing more, made something sharp and grating twist in his chest. He swallowed as tears gathered in his eyes, the thought of going back to that when he knew what it was like to be held, to be loved even though he didn't deserve it making his chest constrict as though the arc reactor were still implanted, cutting off his air and making him gasp softly.  
He bit his fist, hard enough to break skin, the scent of his own blood meeting his nose, but the pain centered him, made him reel in the soft, pained noises he was making as he calmed himself. He listened, felt through the bond, and knew that everyone else was sleeping, their heartbeats steady and strong in his ears, bringing him comfort.  
Slowly, in inches and centimeters, he extracted himself from his soulmates, carefully stepping over Thor and padding out of the rumpus room. He paused at the doorway, staring at his sleeping soulmates for a long, forlorn moment, a pose he'd taken far too many times to be socially acceptable.  
He remembered when he'd first had the idea for this room; it had been Clint complaining that there wasn't enough room in any of their beds for them all to sleep in and watch movies on after battles; a week later, contractors had installed the room, that was mostly made out of bed, slightly lowered into the floor and covered with blankets and pillows and several couches, and he'd revealed it to the team. They'd been exstatic, and that night, after they'd all fallen asleep during a Lord of the Rings marathon, he'd stood here, just like this, looking over them, a sweet ache in his chest.  
When Bucky had arrived, this was the only room he felt safe in for the longest time; he had holed up in the corner, where two couches created a small space for him to squeeze into under a small mountain of blankets. The others had taken to having turns on those couch ends, petting and feeding the man some days, other days just a solid presence he could rely on. His recovery had been rocky, and since he couldn't really help, Tony had poured everything into making the man a new arm, one that wouldn't cause him pain or remind him of the torment he'd gone through.  
With one last, long look, Tony left, despite everything in him screaming that he should go back, crawl between his mates and beg them to keep him, always.  
The lab was cold and dark when he entered, though it sprang to life as he walked in, projects he'd left behind springing up to greet him, DUM-E and You nearly running into eachother as they rushed forward to great him. Tony smiled sadly as he took the wrench DUM-E offered him, beeping excitedly.  
"Thanks buddy," he said quietly. "Jarvis, blackout protocol please."  
"Sir, I don't think-"  
"I don't wanna hear it, Jay," the genius snapped, something hard and cold in his voice. Jarvis was silent for a long moment, and there was the hiss of hydrolics as the entrances to the lab sealed off.  
"As you wish, Sir," Jarvis said, disapproval clear in his voice. Tony sighed; he would have to review the AI's code more thoroughly, and remove whatever it was that was making Tony such a high priority. Jarvis' priority should always be the team, not him.  
__  
The first thing Steve noticed when he woke was that Tony was gone. His eyes snapped open, and he sat up, blearily rubbing the sleep from the corners of his eyes, and his eyes fell on the empty space Tony had been in when they'd gone to sleep.  
"Jarvis, where's Tony?" he demanded, voice rough with sleep, his tone waking the others.  
"Sir is currently in the workshop," Jarvis replied, voice terse. "He has enabled blackout protocol. I am unable to provide further information."  
"Fuck," Bruce muttered, sitting up and glaring as he patted around for his glasses. Clint handed them over easily, yawning as he did so.  
"Don't you have override codes?" Bucky muttered sleepily, stretching languidly.  
"Yeah, but they don't work unless there's an actual emergency," Steve sighed, standing up and pacing. "Or if it's been three days since he's been in the lab."  
"I say we let him," Clint yawned, scratching his stomach. "He's doing this because he thinks we won't want him when he comes out, that we'll decide he's not worth the trouble."  
"If we let him stay in there for a few days, he won't doubt us as much than if we storm in there now," Natasha agreed, and her hair was sticking up in that way that Steve loved, giving her a soft, girlish look.  
"I don't like it," Thor said with a scowl, and Bucky patted his thigh.  
"Neither do I," he said.  
"So we wait, then," Steve said, flopping back down and letting out a gusty sigh.  
"Yep," Phil said from where Clint was using him as a body pillow.  

**Author's Note:**

> so I stayed up late last night reading SCP Foundation, which I highly recommend and that's sort of what inspired this bit. For reference, this particular SCP Foundation has gone totally rogue.


End file.
